


you're the one habit i just can't kick

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Overdosing, Pining, Pre-OT3, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 04:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19783474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Cuddy tries not to worry. Really, she does.





	you're the one habit i just can't kick

**Author's Note:**

> title from _heaven's gate_ by fall out boy.
> 
> for badthingshappenbingo with the square "overdose" and the prompt "substance abuse" at 15woes.
> 
> enjoy!

Cuddy is at her office when her personal phone goes off.

She almost, almost ignores it, briefly thinking that she’s too busy to entertain whatever the Hell people are deciding to annoy her with today. But then she realizes that, one, House never calls her personal phone. It’s always the one at her office. Two, no one calls her personal phone point blank. She pales as she turns, the paperwork forgotten as she reaches for it, leaning in to see it’s Wilson calling her.

Her breath gets stuck in her throat. The last time Wilson called her, it wasn’t because of anything good. The opposite, in fact.

She answers, her hand trembling a little. 

“Hi James,” she says carefully.

“Uh,” Wilson replies, tears hearable. Her heart sinks deeper into her. “H-House is, um.”

“Is there something wrong?” she asks, standing up and getting ready to do whatever she needs to do.

Wilson manages to choke out, “I— need an ambulance at his apartment. 221B Baker Street. Make it discreet, I don’t want him to kill me.”

Cuddy draws in a shaky breath. “I’ll bring people there,” she tells him as she hurries to tell the paramedics they have to go to House’s place, now.

The next thirty minutes of them going there and back are excruciating. She watches her phone and doesn’t dare to call Wilson to check on him and House, because oh god, what if he’s fighting to keep House alive? What if he’s giving him CPR? What if, what if, what if? She can’t have House worse than whatever is happening to him right now just because she’s selfish and cares about him.

(Ever so frequently, Cuddy makes jokes about how easier her life would be if House was out of the picture. In any way that was. But now that it’s the second time in three years that he’s come so close to death — because there’s no other reason for Wilson to have called for an ambulance, isn’t it — she knows she couldn’t live without his presence. Yes, his annoying presence, but God, he’s vital to her life.)

Eventually, she sees people rush in, yelling about his vitals, about what they need to do.

She feels sick just looking at him; she follows them and watches from outside. He’s deathly pale, eyes blank with nothing in them in the least, bits and pieces of vomited food sticking to his beard. She wants to cry just staring at him too long— she’s got a good idea of why he’s there, on the verge of death, and she doesn’t need Wilson to confirm it.

Wilson still confirms it, coming out of the bathroom, almost as pale as House, brows knitted together, his eyes full of panic. “He…” he swallows. “H-he overdosed. I came to his apartment and saw him laying— laying there.”

Cuddy tries not to let out a sob. She tries to seem not worried. She does try as hard as he can.

But Wilson— well, he’s never been good at being fooled. Especially when emotions are involved. He leans in and hugs her tight, tears not spilling out from either of them, as much as it seems like they need to cry.

Once they pull away, they both go to House’s room, hands brushing together. Cuddy draws in a shaky breath as she sits down on the couch, Wilson staying upright, looking over House as his vitals grow stable, him still fast asleep and sedated.

“I just want him to be okay,” Cuddy says softly.

There’s the unspoken  _ but he won’t ever be. _ Ever since that happened to him, ever since Stacy betrayed his trust, it won’t ever happen.

“I want him to be okay too,” Wilson tells her gently. “I knew this would happen eventually. He’s in— in so much pain…” He grits his teeth, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. 

She squeezes his side. “It’ll be okay,” she lies just as gently. “It’ll be okay, James.”

And he knows it won’t be, but they continue the charade nonetheless.

Hours later, Cuddy shifting and trying to get back to work rather uselessly, they’re all at the hospital room again. Wilson is sitting down on the couch now, fiddling with his hands as he looks at House worriedly.

He opens his eyes— his beautiful, stupidly stunning blue eyes— and looks at Wilson. “Hey,” he says.

“You idiot,” he hisses out, leaning closer. “How are you feeling?”

“Eh,” he says, giving him a shrug before he looks up and sees Cuddy. “Hey, Lisa.” He smiles at her, all lopsided and smug. It both infuriates her and makes her want to kiss him. House is like that. He manages to pull her in effortlessly and then pull her out with all the effort in the world. “Worried?”

“Of course I’m worried,” she says, huffing. “I don’t want to lose my main source of media attention because of his drug addiction.”

Well, she’s never claimed to be good at feelings or acknowledging them.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that,” House teases.

Cuddy blushes and looks down, almost reaching for his hand, but she bumps into Wilson’s instead. Three of their hands painfully close, near enough for all of them to touch. 

“I’m glad you’re better now,” Cuddy says carefully. “But… please keep a closer look on how much you’re taking next time.”

He smiles at her. “Well,” he says. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

“You won’t,” Wilson says heavily.

“I won’t,” he agrees.

“Just—” Cuddy sighs. She doesn’t know how to tell him that she doesn’t want him to be like this without being vulnerable. “Just don’t nearly die, okay?”

“I’ll try my best,” he says once again. “I’ll try to not nearly die. Can I die then? It’s not nearly.”

Cuddy scowls and Wilson elbows him. “House!” he hisses.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, tilting his head. “I won’t do anything that involves dying.”

It lasts a mere second, but she still leans in and squeezes his hand. 

“Good,” she says softly.

House stares at her and she stares back. She swears House is blushing a little, but she must be imagining things. She pulls away.

“I’ll go, ah, back to work now,” she says. “You interrupted all my paperwork.”

House snorts. “I think worrying about me is better than working on paperwork,” he drawls out.

She bites the inside of her cheek and reaches for the door. “I suppose so,” she replies. “I’ll get going.”

“See you, Lisa,” Wilson says as she leaves the room.

She catches her breath, brows knitted together and looks back at House’s room. House and Wilson talking lightly, cracking jokes, as if House wasn’t in a hospital bed, as if House hadn’t overdosed.

She bites her lip and walks away.


End file.
